


Shadows of the Past

by orphan_account



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adult Number Five | The Boy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family Issues, Gen, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, POV Alternating, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After fifteen years, Five returns from the apocalypse, desperate to reunite with his childhood crush Vanya. Meanwhile, the other Hargreeves are unable to attend Reginald’s funeral- it’s a different, much worse event that finally brings them all together.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold Jenkins is more militant about exacting his revenge, but he’s also growing more desperate.

Harold was used to solitude. Preferred it, even. Twelve years in prison will do that to a guy. So he spent most nights alone, and tonight was no exception. 

_“We’ve got a cold front moving in, so grab your umbrellas! A quarter to half a inch of rain is expected-“_

The artificial glow of the television was the only source of light in the room, illuminating his face a ghastly white. He fingered the remote, deliberating a change in channel, when the screen suddenly cut away from the weather. 

_“Breaking news; we’ve got a new story coming in. Moments ago, police reported the death of the most eccentric and reclusive billionaire-“_

Harold’s head snapped up. He mouthed the name right as the newscaster read it.

_“-Sir Reginald Hargreeves.”_

He kept staring at the screen, no longer hearing the words. 

Reginald Hargreeves. Dead.

Conflicting emotions warred inside him, clawing and snapping at each other like wolves. On one hand, the monster was gone, the dragon slayed, no longer poisoning the air with every breath he pushed from his tainted lungs. But the spark of triumph quickly faded.

This wasn’t a victory. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, not at all. Hargreeves wasn’t supposed to die of- what was it? Harold squinted at the chyron. Heart failure? So natural. So blasé. 

No, this wasn’t right at all- he should have died kicking and screaming, with blades shoved up every orifice, face pounded into a pulp by the head of a hammer. Harold had envisioned the scene plenty of times, perfecting it. He’d figured on dropping by the Hargreeves mansion one of these days to put it to action. And now that delicious opportunity had been swiped out from under him. 

Slowly, he leaned back into the couch, prompting a groan of protest from the rusted springs. All right, so Hargreeves was dead. But there were quite a few ways to skin this particular cat. 

The first one, Spaceboy, Harold had ruled out early on. Too busy living up to his name. Unreachable.

Number Two, the Kraken- also a fitting alias. Elusive, difficult to find, dangerous to provoke. Previous attempts at tracking him had proved unsuccessful. 

Third was the Rumor, another one he had tried in the past. After a year of stalking, weaving in and out of movie sets and private parties, he’d been forced to drop by the wayside. She was always shadowed by bodyguards, who, though much stupider than himself, boasted the advantage in both numbers and sheer muscle. 

Then came the fourth, the Seance, and who even knew where that guy was? Harold didn’t have a clue- there was no legal residence, no registered employment.

The same applied to the Boy, Number Five. Gone, for decades now. No explanation.

Six, the Horror, was already dead- he’d read about it after his release.

So what did that leave him? Back to pursuing the Rumor? Hunting for the Seance? 

_“Much of what was know about the Hargreeves family, of course,”_ continued the newscaster. _“comes from the book published four years ago-“_

Irritated, Harold lifted the remote to click the television off- then lowered it, seized by a nascent epiphany.

_“-by the relatively unknown seventh child, Vanya Hargreeves, who, although not part of the famed Umbrella Academy, grew up in the Hargreeves mansion alongside her superpowered siblings.”_

He’d known of her existence, but only vaguely, an afterthought in the back of his mind. As far as vengeance was concerned, she’d seemed only tangentially related- the ordinary sibling, not even part of the crime-fighting cadre he’d so longed to join. Not worthy of consideration. 

But maybe he’d been going about it all wrong. They’d grown up together, hadn’t they? Surely they cared for her? Surely it would hurt them, if she were to be harmed? 

One way to find out.

Besides, he really was running out of options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, enough of him for now; next chapter is the Hargreeves. 
> 
> This is my first fic on here- let’s see how it goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Dad’s funeral just doesn’t fit into your schedule. Meanwhile, Five prepares to leave the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Commission in this AU (at least, they’re not involved in the story.) Five spends above 15 years in the future.

The door to the Hargreeves mansion swung open just as Luther lifted his fist to knock. Pogo’s eyes twinkled up at him from behind a round pince-nez. 

“Master Luther,” he greeted. “Welcome home.”

*  
It really wasn’t Diego’s fault. 

He had a _career_ \- well, the whole vigilante gig wasn’t exactly a career, but he definitely had shit to do. Fighting crime. Kicking ass. That sort of thing. 

And Dad was an asshole. Plain and simple, no buts about it. Why should he bother showing up at the funeral? Especially since Luther was sure to be there, too. Besides, there was more than enough to worry about in the city- burglaries, homicides, you name it.

So, yeah, Diego would miss the funeral, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve any blame for it. 

*

Any other time, Allison told herself. Any other time, she would have gone to pay her respects. 

But not now- she just couldn’t do now. This movie was big-budget, but production had already been delayed several times. They couldn’t afford another holdup. She was needed on set, or else preparing for her scenes. Every extra minute was spent sparring with Patrick on the phone, begging for a talk with Claire. There just wasn’t time to spare. 

_Sorry, Dad- and sorry, Luther. I just can’t._

* 

Getting out of rehab was a breath of fresh air, there was no denying that. 

So was getting high. Jesus, it had been too long. 

Leaning against the alleyway wall, Klaus sighed as the euphoria shot through his veins. The sight of the city around him swelled into a confederation of watery shapes, then exploded into colorful splashes and starbursts. His body floated off the concrete ground. 

_Finally._

Still, even though he wanted to pump as much of the stuff inside him as possible, he did his best to modulate the dosage. Overdo it, and he’d get tossed back into the halfway house. And he really wasn’t in the mood for another stint of sobriety. 

In fact, he was probably being reckless right now, hanging around so close to civilization. He was just around the corner from an illuminated storefront- a TV shore, it seemed, with the products on display blaring the news in excited tones. The exact words were muffled by the ringing in his ears, which suited him fine. It’s not as if any of it ever had to do with him. 

With that thought, ducking his head and shoving the rest of his supply into his pocket, Klaus vanished into the labyrinth of the city. 

*

Over a decade later, the only man alive sat on a dilapidated chair, a book open in his lap.

Five examined the equations he’d scribbled over the frontispiece. He needed to review them, at least one more time.

But he couldn’t bring himself to focus on the quadratics and polynomials and antiderivatives. Instead, he looked right past the ink, at the photographed portrait of the young woman. 

According to the publication date, she’d been twenty-five when she published it. About the same as Five was now. She looked different than he remembered, of course- hair shorter and fuller, no more bangs, a brow creased by an excess of worried furrows. But it was still the same face he’d fallen in love with. 

Sweet, shy Vanya. He could read the book in her tremulous voice, find her in the pages. Of all that he’d left behind, it was her that he missed most. 

And, if he was honest, it was her- even more than the seven billion others combined- that he was coming back to save. 

*

Ben did his best to avoid Klaus while he was redosing. The sight sickened him no matter how many times they went through it. So he hung back behind the building, waiting for Klaus to return.

What he wouldn’t give to have been stuck with someone else, anyone else. . . come to think of it, he really missed Five. . . 

*  
Vanya knew that her priorities were out of order. 

She _should_ have been thinking about her father- her estranged, recently-dead father. 

Instead, she kept replaying the audition in her mind- over and over again. Her tone had been drier than she’d hoped for, the resulting melody not as rich and honeyed as it should have been. She didn’t see first chair in her future any time soon.

Instead, she had a funeral to look forward to- and, it was beginning to dawn on her, that meant a reunion with her siblings, none of whom she’d seen since writing her book. She pictured their accusatory faces one by one.

 _It was all true, though,_ she reminded herself. _I didn’t make it up._

Somehow, she didn’t think they would care. 

As she stepped into the taxicab, she found herself hesitating. What was the point, really, of going to the Academy? They wouldn’t want her there. They never had before, and now they probably hated her outright.

No. It wasn’t worth it. 

“Ma’am? Where are you headed?” the driver asked.

She gave him the address to her apartment, stowing all thoughts of her family to the back of her mind where they belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! These first couple chapters were short, the rest of them should be longer.
> 
> Edit: Actually I somehow missed a chunk of this chapter when I was pasting it in, so I’m going to just add that to the next one I guess.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five sets off to find Vanya, but someone else is looking for her, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a longer chapter. Please heed the tags/warnings for this one; it gets dark.

The gray afternoon sky was slinging water against the hard soil of the courtyard. Darker clouds lowered on the horizon, threatening heavier rain to come. Each particle of air was dense and humid. 

In other words, not ideal weather for ash-scattering. 

When Luther tipped the urn over, what remained of the esteemed Sir Reginald Hargreeves slipped into muck on the ground. He cringed. 

“I can’t believe none of them came,” he muttered to Pogo.

“Don’t fret over it too much, Master,” the chimpanzee reasoned. “I’m sure they would have, if they could. They live such busy lives.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Pogo lifted his palms in a gesture of defeat. “Regardless, there’s nothing we can do but properly mourn for your father ourselves. Would you like to say a few words, perhaps?”

“I don’t know what to-”

Whatever else he said was swallowed by another sound- a thunderous tearing, as if the sky itself were being rent apart. Both Pogo and Luther recoiled as a lightning-blue vortex surged into existence over their heads, crackling and sparking. 

_Black hole?_ was Luther’s first, wild impulse. _No-_

“It’s a temporal anomaly!” he bellowed to Pogo, who ignored him, transfixed by the sight. As Luther stared into the light, he made out a distinct shape, hurtling toward them at warp speed. A human form. . . 

The man tumbled inelegantly out of the portal, remained suspended for an instant, then slammed into the ground. As quickly as it had appeared, the anomaly folded in on itself and vanished- leaving only the newcomer. He staggered to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes. His face, although blackened with grime and scuffed with stubble, was strikingly familiar. 

_“Five?”_ Luther gasped. 

A while later, Luther folded his arms over the table. “You really expect me to believe that the world’s gonna end in a week.”

“Believe it or not,” Five shrugged, in the process of tearing into his fluffernutter sandwich. “It’s happening.”

“But- how?”

“That’s what I’m here to figure out.” 

“And you said there was nothing left? Nothing?”

“Yes, pay attention,” Five snapped. “All of you were dead. As far as I could tell, I was the last person alive. I survived off scraps, bugs, whatever I could get my hands on. And I spent those years figuring out the calculations to get back.”

“How many years, exactly?”

“Fifteen, give or take a few.” Five paused, licking a smear of peanut butter off his cheek. “Guess that means I’m about the same age as you and the others. Speaking of- where are they?”

“Diego lives in the city. Got kicked out of he police academy, but he’s got some sort of Batman persona going on. Allison, she’s an actress. In all the movies. She has a daughter too, named Claire-”

Five listened impatiently as his brother rolled off the names, rapping his fingers against the table. Waiting for the one he cared about the most. 

“And Vanya, she’s in the city orchestra. She kept up that violin thing.”

Yes. He remembered her “violin thing.” Sitting in her room and watching her play, but really just watching her face, the little frown as she concentrated.

“Do you have her address?” Five burst out. The awareness was solidifying that he was here, actually here, in the same world as Vanya was. Both of them alive- their only separation was distance. And unlike time, distance had never been an issue for Five. 

“Um.” Luther frowned. “I don’t know. . . We don’t really keep in touch. I’ve been on the moon, I just came back for Dad’s-”

“Yes, I know!” Five gritted his teeth. Frankly, the news about his father wasn’t particularly upsetting. But Vanya- couldn’t Luther see how much this mattered to him?

“Actually, boys,” Pogo broke in from across the room, “your father kept tabs on all of his children, including Miss Vanya. I’m certain he’ll have the address recorded- let me get it for you.”

“Perfect.” Five nodded, allowing himself a small smile of relief. “Then I’ll go see her.”

Luther glanced out the window, at the already-dark sky. “Um- now?” 

“Yes,” Five decided. “Now.”

*

Limned by the dim sunset light filtering through her window, Vanya coaxed out a high, keening note from her violin. With quick fingers, she managed to quaver into a glissando, but the sound was thin, almost nasal. Sighing, she lowered her aching arms and set the instrument aside. She could only fit so much Stravinsky into one evening. 

Crumpling onto the couch for a brief rest, she wondered idly how many of her siblings attended the funeral. Probably they’d spoken about her behind her back. Not for the first time, she lamented that the one sibling whom she was truly fond of, the one who would listen to her amateur playing as if it were the most beautiful Romantic symphony, who spoke to her as an equal instead of an inferior, was the one who had to disappear. 

Sometimes- as was the case now- she let herself fantasize about what could have happened if he’d stayed.

*

It was all so laughably easy.

Harold had expected to be tripped up somewhere along the way. Finding her address, first of all- but no, there it was in the phonebook, brazenly offering violin lessons (he’d even considered signing up, but decided against it- after Hargreeves’ untimely death, he was reluctant to delay action). After that, he’d thought he would have security to contend with- wrong again, the back of the apartment complex was devoid of any surveillance. 

The only hitch, it seemed, was that she lived on the second floor. Even so, scanning the building up and down, he spotted enough hand- and footholds to get the job done. 

He started at the base of a drainpipe, frowning to find it polished with water from the day’s rain. Couldn’t be helped, he supposed; hopefully his gloves and shoes would yield enough traction. With an impressive heave, he hoisted himself up and planted his feet against the wall on either side of the pipe. 

_Easy does it_ , he reminded himself as he dragged himself up. His heart sprang to his throat as one foot slipped, skidding against the concrete. Just in time, he managed to balance it on an adjacent windowsill.

Gripping the pipe tighter, he continued on his way up, with more caution now. He knew which room; he’d scouted it out in advance. There was just one other window between hers and the drainage pipe. Stretching one leg, he managed to span the distance, balancing somewhat precariously on her sill. 

Here came the last uncertainty- however, once again, fortune was on his side. The window was unlocked. 

*

“Hey, Vanya, it’s me, Five. . . no, that’s wrong. . . Hello, Vanya, I’m back- how are you?. . . no. . . shit. . .”

Five balled his hands into fists. Why was this so difficult? Perhaps his time in the future had taken a greater toll on his social skills than he’d anticipated. How inexpedient. 

This was why he’d decided to walk to Vanya’s apartment, even though he was capable of blinking there instead. He needed more time to prepare. Five was a perfectionist: he couldn’t let his isolation-induced awkwardness dampen what should have been an overjoyed reunion.

It was difficult, too, when he was distracted by the memories that kept surfacing in his mind unbidden. Reading on Vanya’s bed as she sat next to him, cleaning her violin. Recounting stories of their missions to see her dark brown eyes go wide with admiration. Comforting her when she cried, enticing her into laughter with a few derogatory remarks about their siblings. She was the only one, too, who really understood him, who empathized with his desperate need to escape. (Of course, by now he was well aware that he should have just stayed put, but now wasn’t the time to reflect on that.)

In the end, he decided on a simple “Hi, Vanya.” Surely she’d recognize him. She had to. 

*

Vanya’s eyes leaped open. 

It was pitch-black in her apartment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch, though she sensed that not much time had passed. Pushing herself to her feet, she reached in front of her, groping blindly for the switch of her lamp. 

Instead, her fingers brushed against something warm and soft. Human skin. With a sharp cry, she staggered backward.

“Don’t scream,” a male voice advised. She heard the click of the switch, and suddenly the room was flooded with light. 

She didn’t recognize the man in front of her. He was nondescript in nearly every way: brown hair, brown eyes, anywhere from early twenties to late thirties. What caught her attention was the knife in his hand, long and silver. 

Her jaw dropped to call for help, but he was faster. Within an instant, he was holding her tightly against him, one rough hand clapped over her mouth while the other pressed her lower back. The blade feathered the soft skin of her throat, right where her jugular pulsed beneath. She could hear it- the slamming of her heartbeat, the rushing of her blood.

“I said don’t scream,” he repeated, his tone neutral. “Or I’ll cut you. All right? Will you scream?”

“No,” she whispered. Cold, raw terror shivered up her spine. 

“Good.” He lowered the knife so it was level with her heart- a warning. He could still stab her dead in seconds. 

“I- I have money,” she choked out. “If that’s what you- you want, or, or valuables, I don’t have much, but I-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he cut her off. “I’m here for you.”

“Me?” she squeaked. 

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Vanya, right? Hargreeves?”

She shuddered to hear her name in his mouth. “Yes, I- that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you, Vanya,” he said, teeth still bared in a friendly smile. “My name’s Harold. I heard your father just died- my condolences.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Anyway, that was disappointing for me, to say the least. See, I’d really wanted to kill the bastard- God rest his soul- but obviously that’s not possible.”

“Yeah,” Vanya answered, startlingly herself with her own daring to speak. “I know he- Dad- he had a lot of enemies, but I- I haven’t had anything to do with him for years-”

“I know. Neither have I, to tell you the truth. This is more of a. . . long term affair. But it’s not about you so much as your brothers and sister. The Umbrella Academy.” His lip curled as he said the last three words, bitterness seeping into his voice for the first time. He kept talking, seemingly in no rush to carry out his intentions. “‘Cause, you know, we’ve got something in common, Vanya. Same birthday- can you believe it? Yeah, October first, 1989. Crazy. So, as I kid, I thought I could be one of them. I even tried to ask your father. No dice, I’m afraid.” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Guess I wasn’t good enough for your perfect family.”

“Neither was I!” Vanya burst out wildly. “I’m, look, I’m normal, just ordinary, there’s nothing special about me, I don’t have any powers.” 

Harold gave a solemn nod of understanding. “Yeah, I know. I get it, really. But that’s why it’s got to be you. ‘Cause you can’t crush me to dust, or send this knife flying into my heart, or ‘rumor’ me to stop. And hurting you is a surefire way to cut your family to the quick.” While he spoke, he extended his arm, tracing the curve of her breast teasingly with the knife. 

Panic bubbled up from Vanya’s chest, threatening to overwhelm. “No- you’ve got it wrong- they don’t care about me- we haven’t talked in years- please, just- if you just go, I won’t call the police, or anything-” 

“I’m sorry, that won’t work,” he said, expression rueful. “So you say it’s been a while since you’ve seen the others? That’s okay. I’m sure they’ll still be horrified when they hear about what’s happened. Probably they’ll think about everything they could’ve done to protect you. Real tragic.”

He reached up and stroked the side of her face with his free hand- the one that had previously been on her back, holding her in place. Instinct took over. She whirled around and sprinted for the door, flinging her hand out in front of her to grab the doorknob. Just as the cool metal made contact with her skin, a powerful arm girded her waist, tossing her backwards. She stumbled into the couch, and suddenly he was there, too, pushing her into the cushions. His weight settled on top of her, pinning her down.

“No, please,” she gasped as he touched the knife to her collarbone, but instead of driving it into her throat, he slashed downward, tearing her shirt open. With deft, precise movements, he brushed the blade over her sternum, slicing through the connective fabric of her bra, before insinuating it below the hem of her pants. “Wait- please don’t-”

It happened so fast, too fast. First there was the cold air on her exposed groin, then a searing, white-hot pain between her legs. She screamed into the hand that covered her mouth. 

“Quiet,” Harold hissed. The next scream stuck in her throat, choking her. She couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced across her vision as he withdrew, then buried himself inside her again. Her walls were dry, and the friction burned like fire; every thrust felt as if it were tearing her apart from the inside out. Warm, viscous liquid snaked down the inside of her thigh.

Something wet flicked at the sensitive cartilage of her ear. His tongue. Vanya stifled another cry as he ground his teeth down, and another as his hand squeezed her breast hard enough to bruise. 

_Too much_ , she wanted to wail, _Kill me, just kill me already_. But an iron vice constricted her lungs. The oxygen withdrawal stabbed her brain like a lance, while her eyes rolled back in their sockets, tears leaking out from the corners. A quiet whimper wavered from her lips.

 _Kill me, kill me, kill me_ , she begged uselessly, to a God who had never listened. 

*

Five stopped outside of her door.

 _This is it_ , he told himself. Finally, he would see her again. His heart fluttered in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings. Somehow, he found himself unable to move. 

_Come on, you coward_ , he chastised himself. _Just knock._

Just as he lifted his fist to the wood, he heard a sound from inside. Faint and high-pitched, like the mewling of an orphaned kitten. Laced with pain- Vanya’s pain.

Five didn’t think. He just blinked inside.

The lights were on. There was a man on the couch, half-dressed. Beneath him was Vanya. She was naked. Fresh bloodstains colored the couch under her legs. A knife lay on the floor, in reach of the man’s arm. Five’s vision went red.

The rest became bits and pieces. 

A flash of blue as he blinked. His hand on the man’s shoulder. Vanya’s cry of pain at the rough exit, piercing his heart like a shard of ice. The knife in his hand. Splashes of blood, bits of flesh, splinters of bone. On the floor, on the walls. Probably the ceiling, too. The man gargling thickly, then breaking off.

He stopped when he heard Vanya sobbing. 

Without affirming whether or not her attacker was alive or dead, Five turned to his adopted sister. She was still on the couch, shivering, eyes glassy. Automatically he reached to touch her shoulder, only for Vanya to flinch violently away. 

“Vanya,” he rasped, startled to find his own voice roughened by tears. “Shit. Vanya, it’s me. It’s Five.”

She whimpered softly, legs curling up to guard her bloodied groin. 

“It’s over,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

Though she continued to cringe from his touch, he slid his hand under her back. He had to. Gently, carefully, he lifted her into a bridal hold. She writhed in his arms as though she wanted to escape from her own skin.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised, summoning the last spark of energy from the frigid pit of his chest. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the nearest emergency room.

“Five. . .”

“I’m here, Vanya. I’m here now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siblings reunite, then return to the Academy. As time passes, Vanya and Five contend with difficult dreams.

The emergency room lights beamed down on Five and Vanya, lighting the sickly pallor of her skin. They were the only ones there. The doctors took her from his arms- he had to fight the urge to resist. 

Once it was clear that Vanya was unable to stand, they laid her on an exam table. A middle-aged doctor brought in the rape kit.

“What’s your relation to her?” he asked, eyeing Five. 

“Brother.” Five’s voice sounded distant to his own ears, like he was speaking from across the room. 

He held her hand through the examination, trying to massage warmth into the death-cold skin. She didn’t respond- not to his touch, nor to the doctors’ as they swabbed, combed, and medicated her. As the senior doctor was drawing blood, a nurse turned to Five, frowning as she took in his scarlet-spattered coat. 

“Whose blood is that?”

“His. . . the man who did this. I didn’t know him.”

“Then that’s evidence,” she said. He nodded, shrugging the garment from his shoulders and handing it off. Come to think of it, that. . . _vermin_ was still out there. Perhaps dead, perhaps not. The thought made his vision blur again. 

“I’ll be back,” he told Vanya in hushed tones. Darting out of the building, he found a pay phone and dialed the Academy. In flat, broken tones, he explained what had happened. 

“Check her apartment and take care of what you find. Then tell the others,” he said. Then he hung up. 

*  
Surprisingly enough, it was Allison who made it to the hospital first.

She was told to wait in the lobby- not to crowd the emergency room. There, she paced in circles, ignoring the receptionists’ frown of censure.

Luther came next. They embraced, once, tightly. His arms felt safe.

“What you said about Five,” Allison said. “Was it true?”

“Yeah, he’s back,” confirmed Luther. “And he killed the guy. The whole apartment’s a crime scene now. They want to interview Vanya, and Five, and me. Diego’s seeing what he can do- he’s got connections.”

“Right. . .”

For a while they stood in silence, one of Luther’s arms draped somewhat awkwardly around Allison’s shoulders. They broke apart when Diego stalked into the room, Klaus in tow (and, by extension, Ben). Together again, for the first time in who-knew-how-long. 

*

By the time they left the hospital, the horizon was aflame with the crest of the morning sun, rays of pink and gold chasing each other across the sky. Five insisted on carrying Vanya in his arms, wrapped in thin, hospital-provided clothes drenched with the reek of antiseptic. She leaned her head into his chest as he blinked them home to the Academy. 

The others drove. Muted conversation permeated the car. 

“Stuck in the future, you said?”

“For fifteen years.”

“We’re lucky he came back.”

“We should have been there.”

Back at the Academy, they gathered around Vanya’s bed, where Five had set her down.

“I thought somewhere familiar would be good,” he said, addressing no one in particular. His back was hunched as he ducked to straighten the pillows and sheets. It was claustrophobic, with the six of them packed between the walls like sardines. Pogo and Grace hovered in the hall- observing, unspeaking. 

“Yeah, but- shit,” said Diego. “Are these rooms smaller than I remembered?” 

“No,” said Five. “Hers was always the smallest.” He turned to face them. “But you wouldn’t have noticed, would you?”

“Five-” Allison began.

“No!” He straightened to his full height- he was taller than most of them now, barring Luther. “Don’t make excuses. You- all of you- you never gave her the time of day. And I’m sure you all cut her off after she published that book- instead of paying attention to what she was saying. I thought you would have grown up, but you’re still Daddy’s children, aren’t you- caring about the family reputation more than the family itself- thinking your powers make you better-” He broke off, chest heaving. 

“You’re right,” said Allison softly. He blinked- what he had expected was an argument. But Diego, Klaus, and Luther all nodded assent.

“Yeah,” muttered Diego. “Treated her like trash. All ‘cause of that stupid book. Bet that’s why she didn’t come to the funeral- she thought we’d all be there.”

“You can’t worry about that now,” Pogo murmured, but Diego turned his face away. 

Klaus didn’t speak, just kneeled beside Vanya’s bed, stroking her clammy fingers. They twitched slightly in response. Everyone fell quiet as she drew in a deep, audible breath. 

“Guys. . .” she mumbled. 

Five practically shoved Klaus out of the way to get on her knees by her head. “Vanya? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she managed, voice dry. “Could you. . . get water?”

Some of it splashed onto the floor when Five blinked back into the room. He handed her the half-full cup, which she chugged as though she’d been lost in the Sahara. 

“Thanks. . .” With obvious strain, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The discomfort on her face- stemming, undoubtedly, from the bruises staining her body- made Five wish he could kill her attacker a thousand times over. Her wide brown eyes swept over them, marking their faces one by one. 

“You’re all here. . .”

“We are now,” said Allison. “We haven’t been a good family these past years. And I’m sorry for that. I want to be your sister.”

“Me, too,” Klaus chimed in. “Or, you know, brother. Or both. Your pick.”

Vanya’s smile was thin and watery, but the sight of it sparked a flicker of warmth in Five’s chest. A flush of pink dusted her cheeks. “Okay,” she said, leaning back down into the mattress. “I’d like that.” She closed her eyes.

They stayed with her for the rest of the night.

*

Vanya had put on a brave face with her siblings. Words that scratched, a smile that stung. Better than listening to them.

Which was strange, considering that she’d always wanted them to admit they were wrong. To include her in the family. By all logic, it should have felt good.

It didn’t- because she knew why they were doing it.

She knew why Allison was now preparing breakfast in the mornings- pancakes or omelettes at first, then smoothies when she realized that Vanya couldn’t stomach the heavier fare. She knew why Luther and Diego entertained lighthearted banter with her, cracking jokes instead of quarreling. She knew why Klaus offered her a share of his edible stash (which she turned down somewhat reluctantly). 

Only Five’s behavior these past three days- bringing her steaming cups of café au lait, or letting her borrow the clothes he’d bought on his back-to-the-present shopping trip- felt natural, unchanged from what it had once been. The rest were completely different, and their reason was clear.

They wanted to make her better, whole, one of them. As if it hadn’t happened. 

Vanya couldn’t forget. Every time she closed her eyes, he was on top of her again- arms caging her, teeth at her ear, stabbing pain into her lower abdomen. She’d wake up with her pulse roaring in her ears, breath tearing from her throat in sporadic gasps. Five was always at her side in an instant, but he could do precious little except wait until she calmed down. 

Her solution was, simply enough, not to sleep. 

She turned her attention to music and music alone. She’d canceled her violin lessons and taken time off from the orchestra- she wasn’t in the mindset to be seeing others. But playing on her own, shut in her bedroom, meant absorbing herself in sound, drowning out every other sensation. The music was somehow different than it had been before: the notes were more amplified and voluminous, they swelled around her in waves and ripples, or spun into a birdsweet kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Her fingers moved of their own volition, never faltering. The memories retreated for as long as she could hold the bow. 

Eventually, however, pure exhaustion would win out, or one of her siblings- usually Five- would insist that she rest. She’d lie supine on the bed, without bothering to pull the covers over her, and try to brace herself for what was to come. And come it would.

At first, tonight was no different. 

The taste of blood, tangy and metallic, soaked through her mouth as she bit down on her tongue as he rammed into her, again and again. She could feel his hand on her breast, groping hungrily. The knife teased at her throat.

But then the dream shifted. Instead of closing her eyes and praying for it to end, as she had done in reality, she felt pressure rising inside of her, like the shifting of tectonic plates. Just as Harold’s teeth caught her ear, it released, all at once, and suddenly she was in control. 

*

Five was dreaming, too. 

He was back in the future. There was the same makeshift shelter, within the same crumbled ruins of the Academy. But this time he wasn’t alone. 

He held Vanya in his arms, just as he had that night, except there wasn’t a trace of blood on either of them. She gazed up at him with wide, trusting eyes. He could feel the soft curves of her body, the warmth exuding from her bare skin- those wonderful things he had noticed, but couldn’t let himself consider. There was a different kind of urgency that gripped him now. He cock thickened in his pants, and he was holding her low enough that she could certainly feel it straining against her. She reached to touch his face.

How many times had he envisioned this, trapped in the barren wasteland of the ruined future? Holding her, touching her, claiming her. Coming over the pages of that damned book, already marked with the calculations fated to reunite them. But now it wasn’t faded teenage recollections in his mind’s eyes, nor the frozen face printed in her book. It was the new memory, vivid and real, nothing left to imagination.

Heat surging in his blood, he laid her down on the jumble of scavenged fabrics that functioned as his bed. Her legs spread wide, waiting and wanting, and when he entered her her wetness pulled him deep inside. She moaned, hands tangling in his hair. 

“Just like that,” she whispered. “Take me, Five, I want you.”

Her walls clenched tight around him as he sank into her liquid depths again and again. He reached up to fondle her breast, cupping its contours with his palm while his fingers toyed with her taut nipple. After several hard thrusts, he spent himself inside her. Her cunt contracted with every wave of cum he spilled, taking and holding him, as her lips sought his-

His eyes opened. For a moment, he was still lost in the weightless pleasure- then a tide of shame rolled over him. He could feel his cock throbbing, and he pushed down his pants in a weak effort to relieve the ache. The cotton was soaked through. 

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

What was wrong with him? The image of his naked sister should _not_ have been a turn-on, all things considered. 

_I can dream what I want, can’t I? It’s not as though I can control it,_ challenged that rebellious, vaguely-libertarian voice in the back of his mind. 

Tossing the covers off, he bundled up the soiled sheets. He’d go put them in the wash, and hopefully nobody would be the wiser. 

As he walked down the hall, a sound caught his ears- a loud, cavernous _crack_. Unable to determine its source exactly, he sprinted down the hall in the general direction. Another sound thundered, reverberating through the walls, like stone breaking. Taking a turn, he realized he could see something, too- a white light emanating from Vanya’s room.

_The fuck-?_

When he blinked to the doorway, he immediately staggered back. 

Vanya was floating. Lying faceup, apparently fast asleep, about a foot off her bed. At her center blazed a ball of white energy, so bright he had to fling up a hand to shield his eyes. Not only that, but the objects in the room- a book, a picture frame, the violin case- were all levitating, too, describing spirals around her inert form.

“Vanya?” Allison cried out from behind him- the noise must have woken her, too, and now its origin was clear. Large cracks wounded the walls, growing wider as he watched. The light fixture above swung violently back and forth. 

He could hear the footsteps and voices, heralding the arrival of his other siblings, but he neither looked back nor heeded their calls of warning as he turned into the room. It was like being caught in a windstorm, with some invisible force whirling around him. 

“Vanya!” he bellowed, reaching out to touch her shoulder. As soon as his fingers made contact with her skin, he was thrown back, his head slamming into the wall. Stars burst across his field of vision. 

Still, it seemed the effort was worth it- when his sight cleared, Vanya was staring back at him. Standing in the center of the room, she swayed unsteadily, clutching her bed for support. 

“Five?” she gasped. 

“Are you okay?” he demanded. He scanned her for injuries, but saw none, except perhaps an unusual, moonlike paleness to her skin. 

“What _was_ that?” said Diego from the doorway. 

“I’m all right, I think,” Vanya panted, folding into a sitting position on her bed. “I was dreaming. A nightmare. . . like normal, at the beginning. . . then it changed. I started killing him.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“Wh-why?” Vanya stammered. “I mean, what- what happened?” Her eyes darted around, taking in the cracked walls and the objects scattered haphazardly about the room. “Did _I_ do this?”

“Yep.” Klaus popped the ‘p,’ studying Vanya with a combination of awe and suspicion. 

“That’s not possible,” she whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Five said suddenly. Something had just clicked in his brain. It was a mad theory- but if it were true. . . “Vanya, you’ve been off your meds lately, haven’t you?”

“Um. . . yeah, I. . . they were at my apartment,” she said, uncomprehending. 

“And now you have powers,” he said.

“Wait, hold on-” Luther began.

“No, he’s on to something,” Allison cut in. “I. . . oh, God. . . I think I understand now. Do any of you guys remember, when we were four- and Dad told us Vanya was sick?” When they all nodded, she went on. “He asked me to do something. . . to tell her she was ordinary. To make her think she was.”

Vanya’s head snapped up. “You. . . what? You did this? You lied to me?” she broke out in a wail. The hair on the back of Five neck bristled as another unseen wind winnowed by. 

“No! No, I didn’t know!”

“Don’t blame her,” interjected Five. Normally, of course, he’d be inclined to defend Vanya’s stance, but right now calming her down seemed to be in all of their best interests. “It was Dad, not Allison. She was just a kid. He’s the one who put you on those meds- to control you.”

“Your brother’s right,” rasped an exhausted voice from behind, and turning around, Five caught the wink of Pogo’s glasses. So he had known- of course he’d known.

Vanya was shaking- not softly, like a leaf in the spring breeze, but as if she were trying to hold something inside her, to cage it and contain it for as long as she could. A tiger, a thunderstorm, an atom bomb. “I could have protected myself,” she choked out. 

The events of the past few days had all but driven the apocalypse from Five’s mind- but when Vanya said that, another gear turned into place. 

What if he hadn’t come back, then? Vanya still would have been raped. She would have been killed- or perhaps not. Perhaps he would have left her there, with her wounded body and broken soul. Depending on how long she stayed in the hospital to recover, she could- possibly, potentially- have spent enough time off her meds to discover these powers on her own. And then what? She’d dreamed of killing Harold. She could have tracked him down, making prey of her predator. 

But after Harold, then what? Five thought back to the apocalypse, the bodies of his siblings he’d surfaced from the debris. Would they have been her next victims?

The thought was terrible, but he couldn’t help but see its truth. Hope for it, even, because in that case, he had nothing to worry about now. The apocalypse had been averted. He had a whole future ahead of him. One that he might be able to spend-

“Five? You okay, bud?” Diego waved a hand in front of Five’s face, which Five slapped away. Allison was now sitting on the bed with Vanya, rubbing her back and murmuring words of comfort. Pogo, mercifully, had returned to bed. For a fleeting heartbeat, Five longed to sit on Vanya’s other side, but decided against it. The memory of tonight’s wet dream and the accompanying guilt was still fresh in his mind. He shouldn’t have let his thoughts go astray. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Really.”

(He wasn’t, really.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t have time to edit this one so their might be a few mistakes. Anyway, hope you enjoy.


End file.
